


Bad Night

by ghosttotheparty



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Almost Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosttotheparty/pseuds/ghosttotheparty
Summary: An alternative almost kiss, taking place the night of the prank. (Sander's POV)
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 5
Kudos: 97





	Bad Night

"Really, fuck off!"  
Sander's hand stopped on its way to lifting his bottle to his mouth as he listened. He knew it was Robbe's voice.  
A door slammed and he set the bottle down, craning his neck to look out the window of the kitchen where he stood by himself. He watched as Jens and Moyo shrugged like they were trying to be nonchalant about what happened.  
Sander didn't know what happened. He just knew that Robbe was angry or hurt, or a mix of the two.  
So Sander was angry.  
He made his way outside, his eyebrows furrowed and his hands shaking slightly. When he got outside, the rest of them were starting to separate, going about the night like normal, like Robbe wasn't alone, and going through whatever it was that he was going through.  
"What the fuck just happened?" Sander asked, looking from Jens to Moyo to Aaron.  
"We don't...it was just a prank, bad timing," Jens said. Sander's eyes snapped back to him.  
"Another fucking prank?" His voice wavered a little bit, which was known to happen when he got angry. (He cursed a lot more when he angry, too. He didn't care.) "I thought we were done with those for tonight."  
"We didn't know he'd react like that, we just—" Moyo started.  
"You never know how someone's going to react. Especially to a shitty prank, and especially someone you've basically been excluding the whole fucking trip." His voice was louder than it was a few seconds ago, and his hands waved around in obscure gestures.  
"Sander..." Britt began from where she stood near the fire-pit. Sander silenced her with a look. He didn't want to deal with her at the moment.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you guys? That you can't see that you're being a dick to your best friend, to the point that he just fucking explodes and you don't see anything wrong?"  
They all stared at him, like students being scolded by a teacher in front of the class.  
"Stop being assholes," Sander finished, looking at them for a second before going back inside, the door slamming behind him.  
Sander put his back to the door, letting his head fall against it, and shut his eyes for a second. He caught his breath (he hadn't realised he'd lost it) and pressed his hands to the door, trying to get them to stop shaking.  
He looked down the hall, seeing that all the doors were open except one, the room no one was staying in. Robbe probably knew he'd be able to stay in there as long as he needed without having to give up space.  
He made his way to the door and knocked lightly on it with two fingers.  
"Fuck off."  
Sander pulled his hand back and winced at Robbe's words. He probably thought Sander was one of the guys or Noor.  
He didn't know what to say and hesitated probably a minute or two too long.  
"Come out for a beer or something when you want." Sander cringed at himself. Fucking awkward.  
He started to turn back to go back to the kitchen when he heard, "Wait, don't go," from behind the door. As he turned toward the door, it swung open.  
Robbe looked distraught. His face was red at the cheeks and nose (a little red around the eyes, but Sander didn't say anything), and his hair was messy and tangled like he'd been running his hands through it.  
Sander's face softened as he looked at Robbe, his eyes smiling.  
"Hey," Sander said quietly. "You okay?"  
"No," Robbe said, turned around, leaving the door open, and flopped onto the bed, on his back, covering his face with his arms. Sander watched him for a second before following him into the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself, and climbing onto the bed next to him. He sat crisscross, facing Robbe.  
"What happened?" he asked quietly.  
"A fucking prank." Robbe's voice was muffled slightly by his arms. "They just...don't know when to stop."  
"Yeah."  
Robbe removed his arms and threw them to his sides.  
"Why are they..." His voice trailed off as he stared at the ceiling in wonder.  
"Assholes?" Sander suggested.  
"Yeah." Robbe said it the same way he would if he had been trying to think of the unsuccessfully. (And maybe he had) "It's just—just recently, they don't include me in stuff, they don't talk about stuff. They don't listen."  
"To what?"  
"Anything." Robbe huffed angrily. "Everything's fucking me up at the moment."  
"I'll listen." Sander worried for a second that was he was being too forward, too bold, too brash. But then Robbe sighed and closed his eyes.  
"My mom is in the hospital."  
"Shit." Sander raised his eyebrows. "Is she okay?"  
"Yeah. She's actually better there than home." The way Robbe sounded...Sander thought he and Robbe's mom must be very similar.  
"But?" Sander prompted, knowing there must be more. He looked at Robbe's face, the expression gentle, soft.  
"It's just..." Robbe sighed again. "I'm tired."  
"Yeah."  
"I hate seeing her like this, you know? It hurts. She's my mom. And I miss her."  
"Can I ask why she's in the hospital?"  
Robbe sighed again.  
"She's depressed."  
"Oh." Sander didn't know what to say. Something like "Yeah, I feel that" would sound like he's trying to be an edgy kid, would sound insensitive. Something like "I'm sorry" would sound repetitive; he probably heard that a lot.  
"Yeah."  
They sat in silence for a minute. It was a comfortable silence, not awkward or stressful like it was when Sander was usually alone with people. Usually, he worried about what to say next, whether he should make a joke or find something to do.  
"She..." Robbe started and trailed off.  
"What?"  
Robbe pressed his lips together and his eyes darted around on the ceiling.  
"She doesn't deserve it. And I'm just...worried about her, stressed about school, my friends are kind of dicks, and I'm—" He cut himself off.  
"You're..." Sander waited for him to finish.  
He didn't.]  
Instead, Robbe looked up at him, his brown eyes still a little bit shiny. They stared at each other for a few seconds before suppressed smiles started to grow on both their faces. Sander laughed quietly as Robbe looked away, his cheeks visibly pink even in the dim lighting of the room. Sander didn't know exactly what Robbe was going to say, but he got the gist of it.  
Robbe sat up and moved so he was sitting crisscross in front of Sander, mirroring him.  
"Why do you like Bowie so much?"  
"Uh..."  
Sander looked up, thinking about his answer.  
"I don't know, his music is just...good."  
"That's really deep, I can tell you put a lot of thought into that."  
Sander laughed and gently hit Robbe's shoulder. Robbe tried to dodge it and giggled when the hit landed. He pushed Sander's hand away, his fingers lingering just a second too long.  
"His music's..." Sander tried to continue, but couldn't think of the right words.  
"Good," Robbe finished for him. He had a soft smile on his face.  
"Yeah."  
Usually, when Sander made prolonged eye contact with people, it was awkward and uncomfortable. He usually ended up looking away, making a joke, saying something that would ease the air.  
But with Robbe.  
With Robbe, everything was different. It had only been a few days, and Sander looked into his eyes like it had been forever. Like they had known each other in past lives, like they were once stars born in the same galaxy millions of years ago, like they were Achilles and Patroclus.  
Sander was in too deep.  
His eyes wandered down to Robbe's mouth and then back up to his eyes. Robbe's gaze was intense.  
"I like your hair, by the way," Robbe said abruptly.  
Sander raised his eyebrows and smiled.  
"Really?"  
"Yeah, it's cool."  
"Britt doesn't like it. She thinks it's just, like...a phase or something." She really thought it was just an on-a-whim decision during an episode.  
"Like you're emo?"  
"I'm not emo! I'm punk."  
Robbe snorted and rolled his eyes. "Whatever."  
"You don't think so?"  
"No, you're just cool."  
"Cool?" Sander teased.  
"Just the hair, though." Robbe reached out and touched it, leaning closer to Sander.  
Suddenly the mood shifted, the air becoming darker, denser, harder to breathe. Sander held his breath. Robbe's fingers went from just touching the ends of his hair to gently twisting into it, and he looked into Sander's eyes again, with that intense look, the look that said he knew what he was doing. Sander scanned Robbe's face, skimming over his cheekbones and nose, and stopped at his mouth. He watched as Robbe licked his lips (Sander subconsciously copied him) and leaned closer slightly, his eyes flicking back and forth between his mouth to his eyes.  
Robbe shifted his body on the bed, moving closer, and his knees pressed against Sander's. Sander swallowed nervously as he slowly reached his own hand out, gently touching the side of Robbe's face, which was just inches from his own. Robbe's hand tightened in his hair and his other hand moved to hold Sander's wrist. His touch was soft. Sander almost shivered.  
Sander looked into his eyes one more time and watched as Robbe smiled. His smile was slow, almost sleepy, and it was more with his eyes than his mouth. Sander closed his eyes as Robbe leaned in more. Sander's hand slid down to Robbe's neck, just under his jaw, and he could feel Robbe's pulse, could feel how it was synced with Sander's own heartbeat that he could feel pounding in his chest.  
The room was completely silent. He'd never experienced a silence like this. Usually, he felt the need to interrupt it, by singing or playing music, or making some kind of noise, so he didn't feel like he'd gone deaf. So he didn't feel trapped or stuck, held captive in quiet.  
But this was nice.  
Sander felt Robbe's nose brush his and he gasped lightly.  
And then he felt Robbe's lips just touch his and holy shit, it was actually happening. He was actually about to kiss the pretty boy he fell in love with under the moonlight, the pretty boy who probably didn't even recognise him from that night. Sander's hand pressed harder against Robbe's neck, and Robbe's hand gripped his hair, and they both began to lean in, the final push, the beginning of everything.  
"Robbe?"  
The boys jumped apart, just about pushing each other away, at the sound of Noor's voice. As the door opened, Sander scrambled backward (he mumbled a quiet "Fuck," under his breath), ending up with his back against the headboard of the bed, and Robbe brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and looking at Sander with wide eyes before looking to Noor and giving her a tight smile.  
"Are you okay? Oh, Sander," she said, entering the room. "Britt was looking for you."  
Sander and Robbe glanced at each other.  
"I'm okay," Robbe said quietly.  
"Are you sure?" She sat next to him and touched his face. Sander saw Robbe move his head back slightly, almost flinching away. "You look like you've been crying."  
Before Robbe could respond, Britt walked in.  
"Hi, darling," she said, sitting next to Sander on the bed. She kissed him and he barely kissed back. She pulled away, giving him a confused look, and he ceded, pressing a soft, short kiss to her mouth. When he looked up, Robbe was looking at him over Noor's shoulder. He had that same smile as earlier, mostly in his eyes, just the corner of his mouth quirked up.  
"Bad night?" Sander heard Noor say quietly to Robbe, and Robbe turned his head to look at her. She kissed him sweetly, making a sympathetic face. His smile faded.  
"Yeah, just a bad night."  
Noor rested her head on his arm and he looked over her at Sander. Sander focused on him as Britt spoke to him. He didn't hear anything she said.  
All he could see was Robbe.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad night after all.


End file.
